Necrophilia: A Tainted Druid's Tale
by ILikeYouDontI
Summary: Currently being rewritten and remastered to something of a saga to span the current expansions and original games of World of Warcraft (excluding MoP, as it hasn't reached endgame just yet and doesn't match the theme of the story.) First ten chapters of part one are mapped out, general ideas for the other three in progress.


**Hi there! This is my first (completed and posted) World of Warcraft story (or, the beginnings of it) so be gentle with the reviews! This is more of a teaser or prologue, I suppose, but there will be more! I got this idea randomly when I was going through quests and now here it is on paper! X3 Hope you love it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own WoW but Naima Wrathblade is mine!**

After years of service with the Horde, I have never come upon someone who met my fancy nor have I fallen in love. In truth, after my defection from the Alliance, I resigned myself to being alone for my very long life (or, until some lucky opponent of mine happened to end it). All of that changed when I came to Northrend and eventually made my way to Agmar's Hammer. By all respects, I should despise and be revolted by him. For one, he's a blood elf—my races' sworn enemy. Second, he's a bloody death knight! Becoming infatuated with a former champion of the Scourge and right-hand warrior of the Lich King isn't very good for the health, believe it or not.

My feelings for him are quite the opposite, really. Not only do I _not_ despise him, I actually quite like him... Ok, so I've adored the man since I met him! Don't ask me why, don't try to understand it—I've already done that!—but for some odd reason, I get this wonderful feeling in my chest that blossoms until I'm filled in a tingly, warm feeling when I see him (, if he's mentioned, or if I even think of him). Unfortunately, it's also accompanied by a maddeningly sick feeling in my gut that nearly has me hurling on the pavement or whatever unlucky spectator that's nearby.

And revolted? Have you _seen _the man without his shirt on? Well, of course you haven't. The only reason I was graced with the godly view of his half naked body was because I forgot to knock when I went into one of the bathing rooms and caught him standing up in one of the steaming tubs. Between you and me, I'm very glad his weapons (and armor) were several feet away (not only because I'm pretty sure he would've hurled his enormous sword through me had they been closer but also) 'cause I was able to take in all his glory before stuttering a blushing apology before sprinting down the hallway. Needless to say, I skipped the bathing room that night and got next to no sleep, mostly due to my imaginings of what else he could possibly do with his enormous sword.

You may be asking yourselves this: has she ever spoken to him (whoever he may be)? The answer: a resounding, boldfaced **NO**! Why? Because when it doesn't have to do with slaughtering my enemies, completing endless missions and quests in the name of Thrall, or torturing things with fire or disease (Did I mention that I'm a warlock? No? Well, now you know.), I'm a complete and utter fool or a coward. Telling jokes? Fool. Explaining something clearly and in small words? Fool. Starting a conversation or speaking up in crowds? Foolish _because_ I'm a of the heart?Coward.

The man does _not_ like his time to be wasted and is constantly _all_ business. You can't start a conversation with small talk or a joke—not that I'm good at either but the first he thinks is a bore, the second he probably won't get! Either I have to get to know him through our respective jobs in the Horde ranks or I'm royally screwed. Well, I've been here at Agmar's Hammer for nearly three months and other than to pass on words (I refuse to call them orders because I really don't believe I could ever boss him around) from my superiors to him or vice versa or the occasional "excuse me" or "I'm sorry" from yours truly, I've never had a full-on, relaxed conversation with the man. Hell, earning my Felsteed while hiding my six foot eight Kal'dorei frame and bright purple hair (not to forget the glowing gold eyes and enormous ears) from those I had to be around was loads easier than it is for me to get up the courage to walk by him and be within touching distance, forget speaking to him!

Seeing as you've got this far and haven't either died of boredom of my rant or up and left in the middle, I suppose you've earned the right to know my name and why I'm here. My name is Naima Wrathblade, I am a night elf warlock who fled from the Alliance for reasons you will know of later, and I have a story to tell you. This story is of my past and present failures, fears, triumphs, dreams, and mostly the only man I've ever loved, Koltira Deathweaver. Hopefully, as my telling goes along, you will see my dreams bloom and flower and be fulfilled, my failures get less and less, and my triumphs stack up. Hopefully, I will gain the metaphorical heart of a certain death knight by the end of this but who knows? Only time will tell.

**Phew! That took forever and a day. All the while, WoW is sitting at the bottom of the screen whispering "plaaay meeee, plaaay meeee." Got to go now, please review! :D**


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